


The Test

by MomoPeachfuz



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Femdom, disney kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomoPeachfuz/pseuds/MomoPeachfuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enchantress returns to give the Beast an opportunity to earn his freedom. Can he master his temper and desire and prove that he has learned humility? Or will he be doomed to remain a Beast?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Test

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Disney Kink Meme LiveJournal community.

This time, the Beast was in the drawing room when she appeared. He was sitting in his great armchair, one of the few pieces of inanimate furniture he possessed. From the corner of his eye, he watched the rosy light grow and fade. Cogsworth shrank back as the Enchantress solidified.

“M-my lady” the clock stammered. He attempted a clumsy bow.

“Leave us,” the Beast ordered. The clock backed away tripping over Lumeire who had not waited for a dismissal to head for the door. 

“Selflessness, devotion, and humility,” said the Enchantress—the refrain which began every visit, “are the cornerstones of love. Learn them or you will never be free. Kneel,” she ordered. The Beast obeyed. 

It began on his 18th birthday. A chance, she called it, to earn his freedom. That night, she forced him to kneel on the floor of his own castle. It was was quickly clear that the Enchantress wielded absolute control over the body she had shaped and deformed. His clothes tore as if pulled apart by invisible claws. Her robes became sheer and translucent, layers melting away before his eyes. She was left wearing silk so fine that he could see her dark flesh beneath it, skin like burnished rosewood. The old hag had skin like that too, but where as hers had looked sun-ravished and wrecked by time, the Enchantress's skin was smooth and inviting, promising warmth, exciting desire.

 

Beast never really knew if this was the Enchantress's true form. Perhaps she was the hag still underneath it all, or perhaps this image was conjured only for his pleasure—or his torture.

On that first night, she appeared to him in his room after all the servants had gone to bed. But from then on, she was less discrete. She would appear in the rose garden, his dressing room, and even the great hall where she made him kneel in front of his own throne while all the servants looked on. On his knees, with his back toward them, he could not tell who had stayed and heard the terms of her test. He did not know if any of them lingered to see their Master on his knees, begging, serving at the Enchantress's pleasure. Had they seen him fail as his bestial nature took hold? As his body betrayed him?

He'd learned since then not to fight against her bonds. It was a waste of energy—the Enchantress wielded complete control over his body. The Beast also knew that this was the least dangerous time for him. It was only when he was released from her control that the trial began. 

She presented him with her bare leg, resting it on a footstool for him to admire. The parts of his body he still controlled tensed. 

“Show me devotion,” she commanded.

“Yes, Enchantress,” the Beast said and obeyed. He began at her ankle, nuzzling it with the crown of his head. He grazed it with his lips, working his way slowly upward. Now and again his fangs would brush her soft flesh, but he had learned never to bite. If he did that, the Enchantress would vanish and he would be left alone, the curse unbroken. His hands balled into fists as he struggled to master his anger. Tonight, he told himself, tonight, I will not fail.

The scent of her filled his nostrils. She smelled of milk and honey and rose petals and the wetness between her legs. The Beast was at her thighs now, and he dragged his tongue slowly up towards her hips. She placed her hand on his cheek, petting, caressing, making soft mummers. The Beast could smell her desire. She was smooth-shaven and he could see drops of moisture gathering inches from his face. In the past, he had tried to resist his body's response, tried to think of anything but her dark skin and moist cunt, tried to ignore the blood rushing to his groin. He tried picturing the hag, he tried picturing himself as she had made him. But the Enchantress had made his body, and she knew his wants. She knew what made him hard, what made him groan, and what made his face burn with shame and anger even as he begged her for more.

So many times, during past tests, he had tried to seize control. Sometimes she would even allow him the illusion of success. She would push him until frustration and anger overcame his better judgment, and he would take her his way. But that was not selfless. That was not devotion. And when he was done, she would stroke his cheek with mock affection, as though he were a child that had done his best but failed to perform in any way other than predicted. Then she would vanish, leaving him alone, exhausted, ashamed, and still cursed.

Tonight would be different. He would be docile. He would submit—he swore to himself and pressed his weight against his hands, trying to hide his clenched fists, hoping that she did not notice his shaking shoulders or ragged breath.

The Enchantress extended to him a gold ring, it's circumference near to that of her forearm. It was decorated with a rose motif complete with small golden thorns. The test could not begin until the Beast accepted it. Trembling, he took it from her, and with a claw, unfastened the latch that held the ring closed. It opened around a hinge at it's center, wide enough to fit around his erection. He closed it around his shaft and drew it back to it's base. The metal was warm against his skin, as if she had been wearing it close to her body. He secured the clasp. It would prolong his erection and the test. This would be the only time during the trial that he would be permitted to touch himself.

“Let us begin,” she said.

“Yes, Enchantress.”

He had control of his legs again, but he knew she would expect him to stay on his knees.. The Enchantress demanded selflessness. She would do everything in her power to inflame his desire, and he must resist, seeing only to her pleasure.

He gazed straight ahead as the Enchantress circled him. She stood behind him, running her hands down his back. Her nails were long and sharp, as if she had claws of her own. With light pressure, she traced either side of his spine, down to the tense muscles of his ass. Her fingertips brushed against his crack and he shivered. Once she had strapped a leather cock onto herself and fucked him from behind like a man until he wept with gorgeous agony, ripped off the cock ring, and came against the stone floor while she laughed. He wondered if she would try this again tonight. His breath quickened as she fondled his buttocks. She leaned into him, dripping her arousal onto the fur of his back, gyrating her hips. The moans she made and the pressure against his rear made the Beast strain against the cock ring.

The Enchantress waved her hand and a rose appeared in it. The stem was a good three feet long with thorns like talons. She drew the petals of the flower along the crack of his ass, applying the slightest pressure. She slipped it down between his legs, brushing his balls. The Beast could not help himself. He moaned.

“You like that, my Beast?”

What he really wanted was dominance, to take control, to taker her as the master of a castle would. She should be on her back below him, her shear robe in shreds. She should be begging., her arms pinned to the floor, her legs spread wide as he filled her. He had done this before, overpowered her, but she had only laughed as he fucked her, called him a savage and an animal as she came. It had only been the illusion of control; and when he had his release, she threw him off of her with a blast of magic. He had sacrificed his freedom for a quick fuck. She then conjured a mirror and made himself stare at his reflection while she fondled his spent, sore cock.

Tonight would be different. It had to be different.. So as she slid the rose up towards his ass, then back down to his balls, the Beast bit his lip and shut his eyes. Her wrist brushed the sensitive knot of nerves bellow his testicles and he nearly fell forward at the sudden jolt of pleasure. He trembled violently as she dug into it, kneading while her free hand traveled down his spine., But that was all she was willing to give. 

The Enchantress pushed him away from her and circled around so that he faced her. She conjured a chair for herself, and sat on it, legs parted. The hemline of her dress rose—she modified her gown with the same ease as the rest of her appearance—allowing her better access to her lower regions. She began to stroke herself with the rose. The Beast watched as her clit flushed and dampened. She moved the flower back and forth over her the hood of her vulva, teasing herself. The rest of her garment disappeared, revealing full, tanned breasts that rose and fell with rapid breaths as her excitement increased. The Beast approached her on his knees and bent forward to aid her pleasure but she struck his face with the stem of the rose. The thorns left three red lines on his above his right eye.

“Did I ask your to approach?” she demanded and he forced himself to seem meek and reply:

“Forgive me Enchantress. You did not.” She struck him again, this time drawing blood on his chest. He knelt in feigned contrition. If he could be meek, if he appeared humble and willing, this time would be the last and he would be free of her.

The Enchantress raised a leg and placed it on the Beast's shoulder to afford him a better view. She placed the stem of the rose under his chin, forcing his head up so that he could watch as she resumed pleasuring herself, this time with her fingers. The Beast swore he could feel heat radiating from her cunt just inches away from his face. He was breathing hard. The thorns had hurt a little, but the hot ache his groin was stronger—inflamed and compounded with each coo and moan the Enchantress made. She placed a finger from the hand that held the rose in his mouth. Part of him longed to rip that hand apart, part of him wanted to feel it wrapped around his cock, but a part that was growing ever weaker reminded him that if either of those desires were acted upon, all hope of his humanity would be lost. The Enchantress extended a second finger, forming a V and he licked between them. He felt himself rocking forward reflexively, though there was nothing for him to rock against, just the hot metal of the cock ring, turning his body against him as it held his erection. No fear, disgust, or shame could soften him—the cock ring was a thing of the Enchantress's own design. It would allow him no relief unless he himself removed it, or she willed it's release. He could only watch her satisfy her own desire until she permitted him to satisfy it for her.

With a rush of liquid, she came. Grabbing the fur atop his head, she forced his mouth against her. She was far from finished.

“Lick me,” she ordered and he obeyed. It was not enough for her. The Enchantress whipped his shoulders with the stem of the rose like a jockey urging on her horse. His tongue filled her and she moaned. She wrapped her legs around him and her chair tipped back slightly. He grabbed the legs to brace it, trying to ignore the way her heels dug into his neck and the way his cock throbbed. He could tip the chair back, take the upper hand. He could be on top of her in seconds. She would not stop him, she never did. She would wait until he had finished, until he had spent his lust and rage. Only then would she remind him of his failure with mocking laughter. He would not give her the satisfaction. Not tonight. There were so few petals left on the rose in the West Wing. How many more opportunities would he have? No, better to humble himself, to be her dog now so that he could be a man again after.

Gripping his fur again, she bent his head back and stood over him. Somehow, she was able to make him feel small. He often suspected that was the point of the test, not to teach him or give him a chance but to prove that any hope of change was futile. She never expected him to pass the trials. But she was wrong. He had to believe that he could overcome her. He only had to wait her out. Surely there was a way to satisfy her. But if there was, in all these years, he had not found it.

“On your back.”

“Yes, Enchantress,” he obliged. The prince lay on the stone floor, naked, There had been a carpet in the room when they had begun—but it had vanished. The floor was cold and he shivered. He spared a moment to glance about, afraid his servants lurked nearby.

She knelt on top of him, hovering inches above his cock. He felt his hips rock involuntarily, and he fought the urge to thrust into her then and there, trembling with effort.

Vines, appearing from nowhere, encircled his body, these mercifully free of thorns. They were not true vines, more like cords of green silk brought to life. One inched across his pectoral, rubbing against his nipple as it slithered by. The ropes served more to tease than restrict his movement. That would have made the test too easy.

“Beg me to bind you. Your resolve is fading fast, I see it. You want to fuck me. You want me underneath you. You want to flip me on my stomach and take me like an animal from behind.”

“No, Enchantress,” he lied.

She lowered herself down, putting her hands on his chest and knees on his legs. She grazed his cock with her cunt, starting at the head and trailing down it's side The Beast could not suppress a moan. Tendrils of silk vine curled around his hips, caressing the inside of his thighs. One piece coiled loosely just above the cock ring.

“You want to feel the inside of my cunt, you want to fuck me, to prove who is Master here! Who runs this castle? You are a prince. No one comes in this castle without your command. I see your contempt, your arrogance. But in the end, you are just a Beast. You want to rut, to fuck. You want me on my knees. You's be happy with my mouth, you're so desperate.” A vine trailed up the side of his face, tilting his head back while a thick tendril brushed his lips. Another vine rose to caress the Enchantress's face, growing thick. Her red lips parted and he watched as she licked the vine, sucked at it. She rocked against his cock. He shut his eyes but as he did he felt another vine tighten round his wrist. The enchantress held the other end and pulled with unnatural strength. She pulled his hand towards her mouth and kissed a clawed finger. Her lips parted and she nibbled his fingertip softly. She took it in her mouth, licking, taking it as far as the second joint. He bucked, and she gripped his wrist for balance. He moved with each stroke of her tongue. This was too much.

“Bind me,” he begged. His resolve was near gone. If she chained him, if she tied him down, held him truly at her mercy, maybe he would last.

“Beg me,” she said, then took a second finger in her mouth. She lowered herself into him, resting herself lightly against his cock, so that her clit kissed it's head each time he rose and shuddered, pulling back before he could enter. Again and again she did this, and he felt the pressure building. He was covered in the smell of her, covered in her desire. She wanted it too. But he couldn't, not unless he ordered him to.

“Please, Enchantress, Mistress, bind me. Collar me, chain me to a wall, do something! I—I cant--” more vines encircled him. He felt one coil around his cock, responding to his movements, feeling like silken fingertips. “Mistress, please, please, don't let me...help me...I need...”

For an instant, she bore down on him and he felt himself enter the barest inch of her. “Mistress, please, tie me.” She lowered herself again, yielding only a fraction of her cunt, again and again. His free hand clawed at the floor, but there was nothing to hold. Nothing to hold him back. “Please, bind me..” 

“No,” she said, and struck him with the thorny rose. Again and again she struck his chest, keeping time with the rise and fall of her hips. A silk vine grew to press against the knot of nerves below is balls. He bit his lip until it bled, trying to silence the moans that betrayed him. Other vines, ones with small, hooked thorns, slithered underneath him, biting into his ass, his back, his shoulder. Their cuts only drew him in deeper. It was enraging and enthralling. His whimpers became snarls. His back arched. He grabbed her with his free hand, his talons biting into her hips before he knew what he was doing, pushing her down harder, deeper.. 

“Please...take away my strength, break my body if you have to, but don't...” She slowed her movements. Each time he withdrew from her, she would hover a moment, then lower herself with deliberate control. The coils about his cock writhed. But the ones that bound his shoulders and arms receded. The vine leash around his wrist snapped.

“No, please...”

“The choice is yours. Agony or release. Have you learned, my Beast? Or do you still think you are Master here?” The hooked thorns dug in deeper, inflaming his skin. The Enchantress stopped riding him. She held her cunt a hair's breadth from his cock. His chest heaved. She took his hand, moist from her sucking at it, and lowered it to her cunt. He felt the tight, fleshy walls of her sex contract and release around him. She let out an unrestrained moan as she rode his hand, and her cum drenched his fingers. It was too much to watch her gain release. He felt the tight knot of nerves deep within her. She soaked his hand again and again, shuddering, cooing, “Oh what a good Beast you are,” she moaned. “Oh what a good, tame thing. Oh!”

He pulled his hand out of her and before she could stop him, he seized he by the shoulder and pushed her to the ground. He tore off the cock ring and it fell to the floor with a clang. He was on top of her, spreading her legs wide with his massive hands. She laughed, but he was in too do deep to care. He thrust into her hard and for a moment he was Master again. He forced his whole length into her. When she tested him, she never took all of him, just enough to satisfy herself. But perhaps she could change her shape to fit him, because she always seemed to enjoy the carnal way he fucked her, and never had any trouble taking all of him then. His roar as he came drowned out her moans.

“Oh my poor Beast,” she cried, “My strong, proud Beast.” She reached up to stroke his face as his seed filled her. “Will you never learn?”

He withdrew from her, trembling. His knees shook as he tried to stand. He managed to crouch on all fours, limbs shaking. But if the Enchantress felt any fatigue, it didn't show. She stood, and again seemed to tower over him. She gripped his mane and lifted his head to look up at her. She traced his jaw and placed a kiss on his brow where the thorns had cut him.

“Perhaps next time,” she said. A cloth of rose-red silk appeared over her shoulder, wrapping itself around her. She tilted his head back and took a long, dragging kiss, biting his lip before pulling away.

The Beast threw his head back and howled. When he looked back at where the Enchantress had stood, he found himself alone. Above him, under a glass dome in the West Wing, another petal fell away from the wilting rose.


End file.
